


B10, C4

by msmarycrawley



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Desire, F/M, Fluff, Introspection, Secret Crush, Sexual Tension, Snacks & Snack Food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmarycrawley/pseuds/msmarycrawley
Summary: “'I like you the way you are.'” Sam wondered if that wasn’t a little too forward and it sounded familiar, like something out of a movie, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because it was true."Ainsley and Sam find time to get acquainted a little better in small moments. Takes place during season 2.
Relationships: Ainsley Hayes/Sam Seaborn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	B10, C4

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as something small and it ended up becoming... not so small. I might make a fic of just one-shots of these two at this point. Ainsley and Sam aren't one of the most popular West Wing ships but their dynamic is so fascinating to me and I love to explore it. I'm on a roll lately so hit me up and tell me how I'm doing! I really appreciate it.

She'd stopped reversing his position. Instead, she now placed little bits of opposition into his papers where they didn't belong and Sam had to review everything she sent back to him before he showed it to anyone else. It would only ever be a sentence or two, but it was enough to set his teeth on edge. Ainsley thought it was funny and maybe it was.

He didn't know how someone could be so wrong but so right at the same time. 

"Sam," _Speak of the devil._ He looked up to see her standing in front of his desk. He held up her latest summary with one hand in response. "No statements of rebellion this time?"

"Keep looking. I hid one in there." Ainsley sat down carefully, folding her hands in her lap. 

Sam smirked slightly. Her presence made him uncomfortable. It wasn't just their vast political differences-he couldn't get over how beautiful she was. It didn't seem to bother anyone else but it was like a mosquito bite he couldn't scratch. Every day she wore something that complimented her body perfectly and it drove him insane. The smell of her perfume drove him insane. Her hair-oh god, her _hair_ -drove him insane. Sometimes Sam wanted to say "Isn't anyone else seeing how perfect this woman is?" because it was unfathomable to him that it wasn't being pointed out the way it deserved to be (but not in a creepy way).

"Sam?" she said again, tilting her head and not noticing that Sam's heart was on fire.

"Yeah. Sorry," he replied, leaning forward. "What's up?"

Ainsley looked a little hesitant. "Can you show me where the vending machine is? There has to be one somewhere, right?" 

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious?" He already knew the answer. This woman was very serious about her food. 

"Yes," she replied, a hint of a whine in her voice. "I usually bring snacks with me to work but I ran out."

Sam leaned back in his chair and brought his fingers to his chin in consideration, savoring the moment. "Ainsley, I'm a very busy man. Couldn't you have asked someone else?" He was fishing for the response he wanted to hear, that she wanted to go with him specifically.

She didn't say anything for a beat. "I could have asked anyone, Sam, but I was already up here and I didn't want to inconvenience anyone. However, I have no problem inconveniencing you."

Sam couldn't hide his grin if he tried. There it is. There was that fire. He expected nothing less.

"What makes you think that I would want to bring you?" He did, but he wasn't going to let this go. 

Ainsley smiled back. "Not _bring_ me, come _with_ me." Sam opened his mouth to call that out but decided against it, because it would only delay the inevitable and the longer they talked the more he started to think he was a little bit hungry too.

"And because," she said while standing up. Sam followed, grabbing his suit jacket. She knew she would win him over before she walked in the room, and it was almost endearing if it wasn't so infuriating. "I never hid anything in that summary."

Sam gasped mockingly. Although he could have guessed this himself-he'd read it over three times and didn't find a trace of Republican handiwork- he was surprised to hear her admit it. "Tsk, tsk. Alright, maybe you do deserve a little treat for not botching my writing for once. Follow me."

*  
*  
*

Of course, Ainsley didn't end up following, and as she walked downstairs to the basement Sam felt the urge to trail a finger down her back. He knew there was a vending machine in these winding halls somewhere, and he also knew Ainsley was more familiar with this area than he was. A sneaking suspicion dawned on him that maybe she didn't want him to show her where it was at all. Maybe she already knew and just wanted his company. But that was probably wishful thinking.

Plenty of people tried to get Sam's attention on their quest for food, all of which he ignored. But he took note of those that smiled at Ainsley in recognition and felt strangely content. She was starting to fit in here.

By the time they reached the machine they made a deal. Sam would get her something he thought she would like, and Ainsley would get him something she thought he would like. 

"Well?" Ainsley said expectantly as they faced the glass, her ponytail swiveling in his face. When she turned, Sam caught a whiff of her perfume and resisted the urge to breathe in deeply because she was so delectable, dammit. 

"Hmm....." Sam said out loud, surveying all of the treats. "B10." He pressed on the buttons as he talked, settling on a packaged oatmeal cookie. They both watched as it dropped unceremoniously. It was less that he thought she would like it, but more that it reminded him of her-the unexpectedness delight of biting into something both sweet and textured, all the flavors and ingredients mixed together to create something new. A lot of people hated oatmeal cookies, sometimes before they tried them. But the best oatmeal cookies stayed with you. All of that-plus Sam that pastries were pretty much a safe bet, seeing as how much she loved muffins. 

Ainsley nodded thoughtfully, looking a little bit too serious for the situation which Sam found adorable. "I love oatmeal cookies." She meandered over to a nearby table after Sam paid, completely consumed with savoring every bite. He laughed and looked back at her. He didn't want to stop looking at her. "Don't forget me." 

"Oh, right. Just do C4," she called back with her mouth full, waving one hand towards him passively. An amused Sam decided getting her to come back over to him would be more trouble than it was worth so he turned back to the machine. 

C4. Twinkies. _Huh._ Anyone with a soul loved Twinkies, and they reminded Sam of his childhood. Not bad. 

"Nice. You're supposed to pay for it, though," Sam said, turning around again.

Almost as soon as he said it, Ainsley fished into the purse she brought with her and lobbed her wallet at him without a second thought. He caught it just as quickly. It was a good throw.

"I could be a thief, you know. I could take everything in here." Sam carried on, delicately taking out a single dollar and the right amount of change.

Ainsley just shrugged nonchalantly. "I trust you." Her admission made Sam feel warm inside and he hid a smile as he faced the machine again. "Thanks," was his simple reply.

He walked back over to the table where Ainsley was sitting and tore at the wrapper. Without a word, she took it from him and opened the package with one motion. Sam glanced at her as subtly as he could manage as she passed the twinkies back to him, still chewing on her cookie. He wondered if she could tell how jittery he suddenly felt, or if she even cared.

*  
*  
*

"You'll never make me less of a Republican, you know." She suddenly declares, pointing the half eating cookie in his direction. 

Sam nodded, swallowing quickly. He wondered if she was a little nervous too, they hadn't had many personal conversations, and there was no one around them. "I know."

"Just because I haven't been trying to reverse your positions lately doesn't mean I won't do it again." She licked her lips and Sam pretended not to notice his stomach doing somersaults. 

"I know," Sam repeated. "Actually, Ainsley..." This was something he'd been wanting to say for a while, and now was as good a time as any. "I like you."

He observed her carefully as Ainsley made a big show of folding up the cookie wrapper, averting his gaze with a hint of a smirk on her face. Once he realized she wasn't going to immediately counter him with anything, he continued. 

“I like you the way you are.” Sam wondered if that wasn’t a little too forward and it sounded familiar, like something out of a movie, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because it was true. He did. He loved her spirit, her intelligence and how much she cared, even if it was about the wrong things. She was so wrong, but so so very right. 

Ainsley cracks out the widest, joyous smile he'd ever seen and turns to face him in her chair. “Sam Seaborn,” she says sweetly, slightly exaggerating her accent. “That’s about the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Sam scoffed, trying to be cool and not melt into putty on the floor and probably failing miserably. "Don't get used to it. Actually," He interrupted himself to cough quietly, cursing himself for not getting some water. He'd forgotten how rich twinkies were. "I don't think we'd get along if we agreed on everything." 

Ainsley clicked her tongue in approval and Sam was glad he was right in his assessment. There was respect between them that started out begrudgingly but it grew into something more real every day. Their fire wouldn't be there if she was a yes man. Their fire that Sam needed to find a way to extinguish or deal with before it consumed him with desire. But maybe he shouldn't try to stop it.

Ainsley hadn't spoken in a while and Sam had this boyish need for her to compliment him too, like it only mattered if she thought he was smart and no one else. He wanted her to compliment him on everything, and maybe get down on her knees so she could compliment him with her mouth. 

She tapped her chin and Sam could see her thinking. She reached out to touch his arm and Sam tries to remember how to breathe normally. "You're right, we wouldn't. And I think you're very capable and kind, Sam, even if you're a liberal and you're wrong all the time."

 _Capable._ Sam moves a little bit closer to her, because she still hadn't taken her hand off of his arm and oh god, was this really happening? He thought he saw a hint of mischief in her eyes, like that time she called him "master", and he knew she had him exactly where she wanted him. He thought about pulling her into his lap and showing her how capable he really was. Instead he settles for a placing a delicate hand on her neck. Ainsley didn't move, didn't break his gaze and didn't pull her hand off of his arm-she only tightens her grip. She's so close to him now that he can smell her, and if he reached out he could taste her. But he knows better, so he slides his hand to the back of her neck and pulls her in, whispering "you're wrong too" into her ear. When he moves away he's so close to her mouth and if he tried to kiss her she might let him, and it's so irresistible but Sam musters all the willpower in the world and sits back and watches as its Ainsley's turn to get dazed. That ends too quickly for Sam's liking and she shoots him a wry smile. "We can be wrong together." He likes the sound of that. 

Before he's even had time to process what just occurred, Ainsley stands up and throws away both of their snack wrappers. When she walks back, she's walking right towards him with a purpose Sam is unsure of but he likes the way she moves, and _Jesus Christ-_ she kisses him on the lips, gripping both of his shoulders. Sam wastes no time in wrapping his arms around her, slipping his mouth into hers pulling her into his lap like he wanted to. He feels as capable as she said and then some. And he feels like he just won the fucking lottery. It's a messy, exhilarating kiss but a singular one, and when they come up for air Ainsley tilts Sam's head back and looks into his eyes.

"You really like me? Not just as a coworker...you really like me?" She says quietly, unsure, and Sam suddenly notices how soft and feminine she seems in that moment, with all the banter gone. It strikes him as odd that this is the first thing she says after they kiss, but Sam knows better than to point that out. "Yes," he replies immediately, stroking her back. Did she really not know? Maybe she did, but she didn't know how much. Either way she looks grateful after he responds, like she just needed one person in this White House to say it and that one person happened to be who she liked back. It occurs to Sam that her Republican-ness in this White House, which she held onto for dear life, might have been giving her a harder time than she had ever let on, even to him. "Good," she strokes his hair before replying, "I think I can like you too."

Because of course that's what she would say.


End file.
